The Raid that Wasn't
by Sgt. Moffitt
Summary: After the desert, there was still a war to be won.


This one's for you, ACS.

The Raid that Wasn't

October 1944

The man seated at the desk was alone with his thoughts. After years of heavy responsibility, there was nothing to do, no plans to make, nowhere to go. A sense of despair and crushing defeat overwhelmed him and he dropped his head into his hands.

A faint noise startled him after what seemed like hours, and he raised his head to see the french door opposite the desk open stealthily.

A figure dressed in black edged into the room, followed by four others. Their booted feet made no sound on the carpet; their faces were blackened. A commando unit, he thought with a sense of detached surprise.

Two of the commandos took positions at the window and the door leading to the hall. The other three stood before him, weapons aimed at his heart.

"_Hände hoch, mein Herr_," one of the three said.

Erwin Rommel obeyed. A German, not an Allied group, then. But why? All of the incredible happenings of the last few weeks were hard enough to bear, and he was unable to make any sense of the current situation. He said, "I have complied with their orders. What more do they wish of me?"

The other two members of the group before him exchanged a quick glance, as though puzzled. The shorter of the two muttered to the other, in execrable German, "I don't understand_, _Moffitt."

Perhaps an Allied group, after all. It did not matter.

"I believe I should clarify the situation," the first member of the group said after flicking a glance at the other two. "You will be coming with us, regardless of your orders." He gestured with his Luger.

Rommel shook his head. "I cannot. You may shoot me if you wish. I am already a dead man."

The two men guarding the exits shot him a glance and then as quickly looked away. The first commando narrowed his eyes but said nothing.

"Sir," the one called Moffitt said, "we are not here to kill you. We have orders to take you to Allied headquarters."

Rommel sighed. "So I may provide information of strategy, troop and armor movements? Perhaps knowledge of the Führer himself and his whereabouts?"

"To help us shorten the war, yes."

He exhaled slowly, lowering his hands to the desk. " I am sorry, but I cannot help you. Firstly, I am no longer privy to the information you desire. But more importantly, I have a commitment I must – I _must _keep." He paused, looking down at his hands, thinking.

"I have seen more clearly than most the disaster that has befallen my land. And I tried to put a stop to it. I failed. The only reason I have not been shot is because the propaganda ministry does not want it known that a war hero is implicated in a plot to assassinate the Führer."

He looked up to see the shocked faces of the men confronting him. Slowly, they all lowered their weapons.

"Tomorrow, I will be taken to a secluded place and provided with a poison capsule. If I do not take it, my wife and child will suffer retribution at the hands of the Third Reich."

He stood and slowly came around the desk until he was face to face with the first commando.

"I know you," he said, searching the eyes of the other man. "You served under me – a fine and honorable officer."

The commando holstered his Luger. "Captain Hans Dietrich, sir."

Rommel indicated the other four men. "And your companions – you have joined with the Allies?"

"Their cause is my cause, sir, and I believe yours as well," Dietrich said.

One of the commandos stepped forward. "Sergeant Troy, US Army. Sir, let us take you and your family out of Germany."

Rommel shook his head once, a world of regret and sorrow in the action. "Were that possible, my wife and son would even now be in Switzerland. But my son is closely guarded at a location that is unknown to me, and my wife would never go without him, even if I could." He paused. "For me, the war is over. But as for you..."

"Sir?" asked Dietrich.

"You will continue your fight? Until Hitler is gone, and Germany is free?"

"You have my word," said Dietrich. He nodded to his companions. As one, the group stood at attention and saluted.

Rommel returned the salute. "Goodbye...and Godspeed."

He stood watching as the Rat Patrol melted into the night.


End file.
